Wanting
by roses and hello
Summary: [Oneshot het] The sight of Snape's Patronus gives James pause for thought.


I was keen to write this (or something resembling this) after reading DH, and it only seemed to work in second person. It's the first time I've tried it, please let me know if there are awkward parts!

* * *

You remember the exact point that you stopped being an "I".

She slipped her hand into yours (the ring pressing into your palm) and whispered, "We're going to be married."

And that was it.

"We". Not "James" and "Lily" were going to be married. Not even "James and Lily".

We.

You had tried being part of a "we" before, but you were a quartet of unyielding "I"s instead. No longer one of an assortment of animals; instead, we are deer to one another.

(The pun pleases you enough for two people, anyway)

* * *

You are more than that now, and you are no longer "I", even to yourself, _in _yourself. There is something more important than you – something more important than Lily. 

Harry.

You look down at him, and you _know_ that every breath right down to your last will be for him.

* * *

You are aware that your breaths seem to be getting shorter and shorter; aware that time is being sucked away from you and your loved ones. It isn't _fair_. 

For this moment in particular, you can almost feel the minutes, seconds rushing past you – can almost see your own breath as though it is a freezing winter's day. You are close to willing away your heart as it thumps along at an alarming rate, because you are young and rash, and if what you think might happen _does_ happen, there will be no reason for your heart to beat.

It continues on, though. Thud. Thud. Thud. Trying to spur you into action, remind you that _you_ still live.

The sight before you continues on.

Lily. She – she must still be alive, even though she hasn't moved in five minutes. The alternative is unthinkable, impossible.

The Dementor continues its slow, deliberate path towards her.

You can't move. You think your heart must have travelled up; your throat is clogged and there is a painful throbbing in your head. Even if you wished to move, there is nothing you could do, not with your wand behind the boy who has been your enemy for nearly half your life.

You don't hate him. You haven't hated since you became a "we" with Lily, and certainly not since Harry filled your waking, sleeping, dreaming moments.

As though somebody else is pulling the strings, your body tenses – ready to throw yourself in front of the creature that makes you shudder to your very core.

And then – everything seems to explode in a flash of white light. You have never seen a Dementor thrown back with such vehemence, and you wonder if it was just a case of wanting it badly enough.

The doe that is nearly as much part of you as your right arm fills the alleyway with light, and you stretch out your fingers to touch it, fighting tears and feeling giddy with relief – this was not it, you still have a little more time together.

You have forgotten Severus Snape.

The doe has not, and it veers away from you, heading back towards the other boy. Your mind supplies you with _slimy_, _greasy_, _dark_, _evil_, and you think that there must be a part of Sirius in you after all (though it is more than likely that you called Snape all of those words yourself). Sensibly, you think "other" might be the best way to describe him after all.

He is your Other. Opposite to all you know and hold dear. What you use to define yourself, and your Self. As long as you are not Snape, you are all right, even in this world where Unforgivables are forgiven as long as the curses fall from the right lips.

And then you stop.

Because you know that you did not cast that Patronus.

And you know that Lily could not.

Your mouth dries up and one of those breaths that you are so intent on savouring catches in your throat.

You recall that Patronuses are formed of the happiest thoughts.

Snape _sneers_ at you, his face twisted and evil, and he cannot have any happy thoughts. He could never be anything to anyone other than himself.

There is the Lily part of you that protests this, and you swallow tightly, because if you accept this, then you must accept that Snape (snide _sinister _Slytherin)'s happiest thoughts-

Are of you.

* * *

Fin. 

(thank you for reading. Reviews would be much appreciated!)


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